After our last little adventure, we decided to have some R&R on the Milford Track, often called the finest walk in the world. Though it’s a 4-day, 55-km hike, you get to stay in well-equipped huts (no tents allowed!) complete with beds and gas cookers. Pretty posh. Beautiful rain forests for the first two days, a jaw-dropping pass on the second day, and more rain forests on the third. Again, we had perfect weather. At one point, while hiking along a veritable highway in the woods, our companions (who’d done it a few years ago) told us they remember walking along the same section in knee-deep water. Wow! It normally rains 18 feet a year along the Milford Track, so to have a few days of sun in a row is a rarity. The walk ends with a boat ride through Milford Sound, which is stunning. Haven’t had a chance to edit the photos, but I’ll post them soon.

Last time I was in NZ, about 6 years ago, I cruised with my friend Andrew to this place called Twin Stream. It’s an amazing glacial valley high above the road to Mt. Cook. The guidebook said a 2 hour hike in from the trailhead and the weatherman said to expect sun. No problem, we figured. So after a day of hitching, we got dropped off at a nearby town. In a rain storm. In flip flops. In board shorts. In t-shirts. Not good. The town was a block long, so we spent the night under a bus shelter and we (don’t tell anyone) raided a Salvation Army drop-box and pulled out the only warm clothes we could find: cotton pajamas. So we swaped out our beach clothes and stood on the side of the road the next day in PJs with our thumbs out. Hours later a car stopped and left us at the trailhead to Twin Stream to start that “two hour approach.” Yeah, right. It took 7 hours. We arrived in this rad, isolated valley with nobody around and set up tent, only to have it almost blown away by gale-force winds while we were inside. Then, at 4 a.m., the mountain parrots descended and ate our pots and pans, and screeched for hours on end. KEEEAAAAA. Andrew lost it, and I awoke to him at dawn throwing everything he could find at all these little troll-like parrots. The keas are massive, by the way, and they’re among the smartest birds around. They’re infamous in New Zealand for eating everything they can find, including cars. They’ll pull the blades off the wipers and the rubber gaskets out of your car windows, so tents stand no chance. Anyway, Andrew and I decided to climb Pulp Friction, some sort of sandbagged 5.10 slab with bolts every 20 feet. That means 40-foot falls. The whole way up a 800-foot climb. Omg. The guy who bolted it was completely mental, since he’d run it out for 15 feet to a great stance and then, instead of putting in a bolt, would climb about a foot above the stance to drill his bolt holes. So that means instead of clipping from a perfect clipping hold, you’d clip above (or in the middle of) a crux, all the while staring between your feet into the gaping alpine abyss and thinking real hard about what would happen if you slipped. The rap down wasn’t any kinder, since the anchors were all mysteriously placed at knee level. I have no idea. Don’t ask. We became so frazzled with the wind and climbing and keas that we bailed, still in our PJs, and headed back to Christchurch where we had a nice beer and chocolate dinner.

So that’s Twin Stream — and that’s where Alicia and I decided go. This time was a bit better, though. First, we had proper clothes. Second, we took a helicopter in, which was cool enough. (I think I want to become a helicopter pilot when my fingers get too arthritic from clicking camera shutters) Third, we took lots of fresh food to keep us nice and strong for our climbing adventures. Fourth, I have 6 extra years of climbing under my belt, so I figured that perhaps the trip wouldn’t be so bad. We arrived in Twin Stream with six people, set up camp, and were immediately stormed by the keas. They landed, hopped around, and tried to take whatever we weren’t looking at. Then we spent about four hours trying to build little rock caves to keep the birds out of our food. An afternoon climb went well, hinting that the routes wouldn’t be so bad. Things were looking up! We cooked a nice dinner with our few million pounds of fresh veggies and went to sleep. The wind started at 2 a.m. and blew the tent flat, so I decided to try to sleep outside, in the shelter of a rock, wondering how Alicia was dealing with eating tent all night long. At 4 a.m., I awoke to the ruffling of feathers and a few little hops on the ground. Then: KEAAAAAAAAA. Louder than you can imagine, by the way. A kea was a few feet from my head, and had somehow eaten my sleeping pad while I was on top of it. I wiggled around, yelled at it, scared it a little and then tried again to fall asleep. KEEEEEEEAAAAAAAA!! Another kea had landed next to my head. I looked over and saw my headlamp about 40 feet away, still shining, and I could just make out one of my shoes in the moonlight, a hundred feet away and a little ratty. The keas had eaten both! I put everything inside my sleeping bag and tried to fall asleep again. KEEAAAAAAAA!! The bird at my feet was calling to its friends throughout the valley, who all responded in turn. Keeaaaa! Keaaaa! Keeaaa! Suddenly, about 20 mountain parrots were in our camp, eating tents, banging on pots, trying to nibble my sleeping pad from beneath me. Everyone was up throwing things at them to scare them away. And then, right when the sun came up, the birds all vanished. The day had started. I did Pulp Friction my second day, which went off without much of a hitch — nowhere near as scary this time — and had another nice meal. And then the wind. And then the keas. And then the rain. And then more wind. And then more keas. And wind. And keas. And keas. And rain. So we all bailed early, taking down the hill about 80 pounds of fresh veggies on our backs.

Here’s Alicia’s take on the hike out:

The hike out was typical Nathan crazy. Of course he had no recollection of it, so I wasn’t fairly warned. We filled our packs with kilos and kilos of gear and fresh veggies, which we had planned to have eaten by this time, and started out. I very quickly realized there was NO trail. We struggled in the scree, ping ponging among the boulders just waiting for the afternoon rain to hit us. With every step I worked to not fall over. Hours in, after grimacing, clenching my fists more than once, and replaying a mantra in my head “I will review every map and route for myself… adventures not epics,” we came to a rope swing above the river. We had to grab an old fiber rope, hang on, and swing from one side of a dropoff to the other. At this point it started to rain. Eventually we found an old sheep path between the most thorny plant I’ve yet to encounter, and bushwacked through it for a few hours. A bit later, after going straight down a ridge, we came to a grass clearing. This is where I lost my footing, fell over into the dense piles of sheep shit, and struggled like a turtle to right myself while admiring the titlted beautiful valley below me. I was punch drunch giddy from that moment on. Only two more hours left!

Anyway, enjoy the photos!

After we finished our sea kayaking trip, we headed toward Castle Hill, which is basically one of the world’s bouldering hotspots. The weather was perfect — the sun, miraculously, seems to be chasing us — so we climbed there for 5 days. The rocks are bizarre limestone blobs scattered on a few huge grassy hills, and they have virtually no features. Climbing there is a huge trip because there aren’t any holds. Seriously. Success at Castle Hill depends on body tension and friction, and damn good sloper strength. Which nobody except the locals seems to have.

Our first day there was pretty sad, and ended with a lot of sore muscles. Every problem requires you to mantle over the top of the boulder, which is basically akin to doing a dip between two chairs. That can get difficult by the 100th time! But after a few days we eased into the climbing style and I managed to pull of a V9 — a first! Alicia almost sent a bunch of V5s, and has a couple of good projects to get back to when we return in a few weeks.

We took a rest day at this place called Cave Stream, which, if you can believe it, is a stream through a cave. But it’s pretty cool since you can actually hike the length of the cave in knee-deep water over the course of half an hour. The cave is about a kilometer long, 6 meters high and 6 meters wide, and it requires the use of a headlamp. Way cool. If it were in America, you’d probably have to pay a $35 entry fee, have to hire a guide and sign a lot of waivers.

Anyway, check out the photos (the first one’s from Pancake Rocks, on the way there from Paynes Ford)

Just got back from our kayaking adventure through Abel Tasman National Park, which was a blast. It was a three-day trip that started on one end of the park and ended with a pick-up half way through it. We got worked by big swells and sand flies, but we also had some perfect weather, glassy seas and a super hot 122-degree solar shower.

The first day was an early start. Sunny, smooth, just about perfect. We paddled around Separation Point and encountered a few sea lion colonies, stopped for breakfast at a place called Mutton Cove, and continued along the coast stopped at tiny little beaches and exploring little coves along the way. Hikers can walk along a multi-day trail that goes along the beach now and again, so we encountered a lot of folks out there. The first night we spent at a tiny little jungle campsite and were eaten by swarms of sand flies. Absolutely heinous.

The next day we awoke to a little drizzle, a little wind, and a little chop, so we decided to wait and see if the weather improved. We were headed to a place called Mosquito Bay, which was on the other side of a huge point. The weather got worse and worse until about 5 pm, at which point things started to clear and we decided to make a go for it.

As soon as we got to the point, we encountered 4-foot swells that were smacking us in the face. SKETCHY! Turning around was a little freaky, and it was even worse trying to paddle back. On the way out at least we could see the waves approaching, but on the way back they were hitting me from behind. Each wave would drench me and push the rear of the boat out of the water, which means I couldn’t steer for a second or two — and that put us at risk of being broadsided by a wave and capsizing! The plan was to get to Mosquito Bay that night and then come back up the coast, past our first campsite, to our pickup place. Instead, we just spent two nights at our first campsite, and our third day was a liesure day exploring tiny private beaches and snorkeling. Excellent!

When we returned, we heard about an Australian adventurer who was trying to kayak from Australia to New Zealand in a boat about the same size as ours. He encountered 30-foot waves along the course of his 1,600 km journey, only to capsize about 80 km from shore on the day before he was supposed to arrive. Right now he’s missing at sea. Pretty tragic story — you can read about it here. We had a pretty intense 20 minutes, and I can’t believe what it must have been like to deal with this stuff for 30 days, day and night. Today is the last day of the search and rescue mission, so everyone over here is hoping they find him. Fingers crossed.

So we’re a day into a three day kayak trip around Abel Tasman National Park, in the northern South Island. Taking a lunch break and I wanted to see if I could update the blog… Seems like it works.

Anyway, we’re being eaten alive by sand flies, so if anyone can read this: please send help. Please. Send. Help. We won’t last too much longer. And we sure can’t wait to see what lurks around tomorrow night’s campsite, which tey call Mosquito Bay.

Today we went around a cool point with a bunch of sea lion colonies, and the sea lions came up and swam around the boat. Waaaay cool. This place reminds me of California’s Channel Islands, but tropical.

We’ve got some snorkeling gear in the kayak, so I’m hoping to catch some lobster for dinner. If that fails, maybe we can get back at the sand flies and eat them.

Had a bit of a mission today. First we had the obligatory climbing session at Paynes, then we took an afternoon off and went to Wharariki Beach, which is about an hour northwest. It’s accessible by a long, circuitous dirt road, then a hike along a path winding through grassy hills, forests and dunes. Amazing place. There weren’t very many people save for Alicia and I and our friends Greg, Andrew, Sylv and this crazy French dude named Pierre.

Andrew’s recently become excited about geocaching, which is basically a treasure hunt for adults. You pick some caches off of www.geocaching.com and use your GPS to find them. One of them was buried somewhere on the beach, so we took his GPS and wandered around until we found a small tupperware filled with random goodies buried beneath some plants growing out of a dune. You’re supposed to take a trinket with you out of the cache and leave something else inside it. We also explored a random cave on the beach, but after we got a few hundred feet in (in the pitch dark) we heard some animals breathing and snorting — probably sea lions. With big teeth. So we bolted.

Pierre returned to the beach the next day and spent an afternoon digging clams out of the sand. He became covered in mud, but he also needed to do some grocery shopping for dinner. We ran into him at the market, and instead of dripping mud all over the store, he was wandering around in a pair of red boxer shorts and an undershirt. He emerged with white wine, parsley and other cooking ingredients and proceeded to cook clams for the entire camp. A bit sandy, but tasty too.

Takaka, tiny, two-block Takaka, threw a pretty wicked Mardi Gras — even if the parade consisted of 15 people. But at least the crowd was huge!

Yesterday was a super productive day of climbing — Alicia lead a few lines and continued to get used to being on the sharp end of the rope, while I ticked off a few more of the classics that I couldn’t do last time I was here. I clawed my way up 9 pitches yesterday, 7 of which were 5.12. Yikes. I can’t really move well right now. But check out the pictures and you can see what the climbing’s like around here. Awesome limestone, huge fern trees, dense jungle — it’s like climbing in Thailand, but the weather isn’t 100 degrees every day.

Afterwards, we headed to town for a parade and a long night of live music in the Takaka’s central square. Pretty cool stuff. One band played native Zimbabwean music on a collection of xylophones, which was incredible. Seemed like everyone in this whole valley was in town. Fun stuff.

Ahh, just arrived at Paynes Ford, the coolest place to climb in all of New Zealand. It’s in Golden Bay, in the northern tip of the South Island, in the Takaka River Valley. Paynes Ford is a band of limestone cliffs flanked by a huge river with lots of swimming holes. It’s beyond cool. We ran into a great friend from my last trip here 6 years ago, and here he is on Responsible Lunges, a cool 5.12 up a huge overhanging arete. More later — gotta go cook and relax!

Arrived two days ago at 11:00 a.m., and by 4:00, I’d scored a sweet camper van and a spare bed at my friend Ziggy’s place for a few nights. Yesterday I equipped the van, got a cell phone, hooked it up to my email account, went grocery shopping and picked up Alicia at the airport. Today we’re relaxing with my friend Dave, a seaweed researcher at the University of Canturbury, and tomorrow the adventure begins. We’re probably headed up the coast, past Kaikoura, and onto Golden Bay for a few weeks of climbing at Paynes Ford.

Christchurch’s Port Hills are absolutely stunning. What a beautiful place to live. Ziggy — a doctor of psychiatric medicine with dreadlocks down to his waist — lives with his wife (an ophthalmologist) in a small pad overlooking Lyttleton Harbor. Nice. He’s got some time off in March, so we’re hoping to connect with him and go whitewater kayaking for a few weeks.

So anyway, here are a few pictures as we start off our trip! One’s of our new home on wheels for the next few months, and the other two shots are overlooking Lyttleton Harbor from Ziggy’s front porch.

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So we just cruised out to Joshua Tree for a final few days of climbing before the trip to New Zealand, and it was COLD. Like, so cold that our mugs froze to the picnic tables in the campground. So cold that we took a bottle of water out of the car and actually WATCHED the crystals forming, which didn’t make any sense but nevertheless happened. Maybe it was some pressure-related thing or something. We were all pretty unmotivated to do much other than stand around in the sun telling bad jokes.

As the weekend wore on, it warmed up a tad and we got some climbing in. Right as we were leaving, my friend Yishai decided to try a new climb called Iron Resolution, which is supposedly the hardest boulder problem in the park. It’s a Chris Sharma line that’s seen only one repeat, and Yishai, a V9 climber, managed to get to only the second move. Hmmm. I got a rad picture, though!

Then we bailed and drove back to Santa Barbara to go bouldering on Monday in the sun. As we left, I grabbed a few lifestyle shots for Spire USA, a company that makes the best computer bags on earth (I shoot some of their advertising and catalog images). Turns out it was one of the coldest weekends EVER! Yikes!